New small steps

I'm taking things "slow and steady",maybe this is the way to cope with everything now.

I drag my coffee through half the morning because I have to make myself forget that dreadful mattress somehow.I deliberately get swallowed by a sea of people who,just like me,are probably looking to buy something to eat and a false sense of security.I say "Hello!" to friends,listen to some music,follow a schedule in order to avoid future discomfort.It's a good plan,a good mechanism-except for when it's not.

Memories sprout from similarities and coincidences and episodes of early longing and everything just hurts so damn much.This sort of ache can't be verbalized,only felt and contained within a cavity formed by a a few curved bones that don't help at all.
Will this be worth the "sacrifice" someday?Will that even matter then?Will my time spent in a place which makes this heart beat bitter actually produce happiness for others,if not for myself,one day?
It's too early for chameleon questions and the rain outside is nothing short of a reverse medicine.
All I can do is try.I can't guarantee the future,my wellbeing or my sanity.All I can do is try...
Easier said than done,right?Right.Am I a good liar yet?I am.Does the thought of another tomorrow get stuck in my throat?It does.
Small steps,love.Small steps.

"I don't wanna go"

Back to college,back to a room too small for two,back to a life which I had forgotten could be so peculiar and draining.

Today began early and with a lot of rain on its shoulders-maybe those were the tears I couldn't shed myself on some sort of cosmic level.

It's hard to say "goodbye",even when you're not really that far away and it's only for a short while-but who knows what will happen next?Who knows,indeed.

We dressed the walls in white,we greeted the friendly cockroaches,we remained behind two cars which left.Then we put our things where they needed to be and pretended this life was simple and normal.Good God,my mattress has springs forged by the Devil himself!

My body is a failing wreck,but my mind is the real enemy right now,with tempting sunsets and cruel whispers of "Let's go back!Let's go back now!".I really don't know how I managed everything last year-this is my first day and I can just see the shape of my skull carved into a wall.

My drug is my home and the lack of it pains me physically.I'm a big baby,I know,but is it honestly that bad to want to be somewhere where you feel safe and content?I don't dare say happy-I don't even dare.

I already miss my family,my cats,my bed-this is going to be either an ache filled year or a reason to make a change for myself.

Apples and grapes

Seeing the lights burst around a very musical "06:00" is a process that makes my bones just weep.
The sky is aquamarine,my shoes are electric blue and these fingertips are turning purple.
This road brings me both joy and sorrow.
Countryside-grandma looks at me in such a way that makes me believe I am a beloved child once more.
Breakfast by the fire and coffee in bed-I mean,what other moment would you want to preserve in time?
Being called outside to work and then not having anything productive to actually do is up there among my "top 10 frustrating things".
If one thing's for certain is that this autumn air will make your lungs hurt and your city head grow dizzy.
I will never forgive these grapes for being so eager to fall to the ground instead of into my palms.
Well,if there's no fighting and bickering involved,it isn't a family trip now,is it?
I am willing to sacrifice my personal comfort just so that everybody can shut the fuck up already.
We never do have enough time to visit our relatives properly.
Sleepy phone calls,mandatory shopping stop,the dread of tomorrow's arrival drawing near.
I'm already tired of packing and thinking about leaving.
I'll miss you most,oblivious kittens.
I should go to bed early...

Average failure

I wish I had the guts to be average in the honest sense of the word.Not like now,not like this,when I'm just pretending and letting wild dreams roam through my head like gilded mustangs,though they have no right to do that to me.

Because it takes courage to accept life as it was meant to be somehow,from beginning to middle to end.The world is too big and too small and I'm too big and too small.

People with a clear purpose,with ambition,with a dream they would die for,these are the people who actually deserve to have this organic cage opened for them,to escape from a linear grasp with no return.

Me?I'm lost and unwilling to find a road to save me and please me.I have the phrase "Why even bother?" carved into my spine with silver letters and contradictory electric impulses.

If only the lives in my head would either vanish or magically possess reality-I cannot keep lying to myself like this anymore.

I will disappoint,most likely.And I will disappoint the people who think of me as a golden sparrow rather than a molting crow and whom I love most dearly.But there's no middle ground for us,no middle way,no middle strip of air.

I wish I had the guts to be average-then I could accept existence rather than reject it with a racing heart.

Pieces coming together

I wake up.
I drink my dirty cup of coffee.
I revel in the burlesque wonder that is life.
I know this house like a prayer,
though I'll never be able to judge it
through a stranger's eye:
this is my sanctuary,for better or worse,
and I worship its flowers the same way
I long for its mud.
I get dressed.
I create a porcelain symphony in the kitchen.
I take care of the people who share my blood.
Why can't I let go?Why don't I have a dream
to tear my flesh from the bone?
Why should I sacrifice today on a temporal pyre
for the sake of tomorrow's uncertain resurrection?
I write my words.
I bathe in the autumn sun.
I wait for the arrival of a wiser dove.
the call for change is like an echo
I chose to banish from my ears
by means of flowing images that never age
and lies so beautifully crafted.
I collect my pages.
I want to believe.
I go to sleep.

To me,the world is broken

To me,the world is broken.Sometimes beyond repair,sometimes with only a few tiny cracks to cover up.We always try to fix it,fix ourselves in the process,but people come and go,nothing is forever.It really makes you wonder whether there's a point to it all anymore...

I am scared shitless of living,you know.It's true.Sometimes,I fail to believe I'm even real.I only feel the weight of my own being when I recognize the reality of others in action.

I know where I am now,but I don't know where or why I want to go.I know who I am now,but not the person I'm going to end up being.I'm missing a lot of pieces here,the puzzle isn't quite clear anymore.It never was,though.

There are days when I go without crying to the minute,like a conscious desert.But that drought builds up and then come the days when,if you touch me with the lightest feather,I decompose into a cloudless rain of bitter throbs.It seems right and it seems wrong,but most of all it just seems present.Like mourning for a broken bone that won't let you function or the fact that you were born in the first place.

When the rain in my body just won't subdue,it's all I can think about and Hell shines a little bit brighter right there,right then.

Yes,to me,the world is broken.Not because it's redundant,not because I'm too small.The world is broken because I m not able to see it otherwise.

"Get a room!"

I don't know if I was a friend or an enemy to myself last night-all I know is that I can count the hours I've really slept on one hand and have a few fingers to spare too.
It's early,it's tiresome and grumpy people aren't actually a bonus right now.
I've really forgotten how much I hate crowded places,crowded hours and crowds in general-I'm never going to survive another year here.
That awkward moment when,after greeting and hugging your friends,you realize you were all useless sloths the entire summer because you don't have a single story to tell between you.
It's pathetic that I'm still nervous,isn't it?
It's like last year all over again,only this time I know what to expect.
We got our room,only we technically didn't-a minor setback,I'm sure.
Familiar train station,greenish tickets,a whole lot of waiting-yes,this rings a few bells.
The compartment smells like bad memories,the music in my ears is making me even more sleepy,the scenery is starting to convince me that the Universal Clock has fainted somewhere along the way.
If I felt this homesick after just one day,then...I don't even want to continue this sentence.
My bed,my kittens,my aching bones that wish to rest.
After my first hot coffee of the day,I believe I am a little bit better.
Conversation and sleep deprivation aren't the best couple in town.
Tired as I may be,I still need to go through a movie.
Thankful prayers were never more welcomed.

In a bottle

We decide our fate every single moment at a time and that notion just brings me to my knees.I'm scared of what I can control,of what I can't and of what I won't.Life isn't ferocious on a grander scale-the small things get to you faster because you're more likely to be devoured by worms than a whale.

It might sound silly,even truly be so,but it's true.My heart pounds faster at the thought of seemingly petty things:heavy traffic,careless strangers,random glitches of the Universe which aren't in my hands to fix or prevent or smother in the womb.

My vision of Paradise is one where everyone and everything I love doesn't get hurt and doesn't die.Maybe that's why it all feels like Hell here sometimes...

And,as selfless as I care think myself to be,I do want things to go smoothly when they have my name attached to them.I crave comfort,I avoid action,I can be so very purposeless when I really want to be.

But tonight I'm anxious and darkly giddy and afraid to even go to sleep-as I said,it's the little things that get to you...

I am the trembling sea and uncertainty is my bottle-cage.That's why I never make plans-because they always crack when the waves become too confident.

It's utterly tragic how we can be either gods or ants depending on how we roll tomorrow's dice.

Right now,I can't decide whether my smile is fantasy induced or a mirror in reverse reflection of my mood.

Blood drop

a vision of loneliness stands before me
like a mirror that reflects
the deepest corners of a geometrical night
upon the sun's dimming reign

"I am alive",says a drop of blood
as it melts above a patch
of blackened skin;
"I don't believe you",groan these lips
that turn inward as they give birth
to another smothered howl
of bastard roots

the numbness spreads like summer floods
beneath the skin and into bones
which can't articulate the meaning of life
because they are not gods

I am never happy.I can never be again.
I only thrive in a moment before I remember
that it's a curse to consider oneself
too blessed

the weight of blue lungs floats into my brain
and menacingly whispers that the sadness
of the Universe could be
mine one day

I'm dirt.I'm banished feathers.
I'm a vision of loneliness
which doesn't reflect anymore

"Too close to the sun"

The past is all we have.And even that's gone too.

I think my life is dominated by sound more than anything.

Demanding pets,gushing wind,water touching coffee,my favorite songs bursting into my ears-everything makes me more awake,more open,more receptive to the constant change that's flowing around me.

Unlike other senses,this one expects me to be imaginative and ready to make connections.

Not to mention it lets me live beyond my time,space,power...

I'm at the mercy of my cats.

They want food,I have to give them food.They want to sit on my lap,I have to comply.They want to play outside,I have to go watch over them,even if it means having my limbs this close from freezing off and being carried away by the wind.Gosh,I'm such a sucker for these fluffy creatures!

But they make me happy.And I love them.And I hope the feeling is mutual...somehow.

Oh,such sweet madness!

A most happy birthday,my sweet angel!

May all your days be lovely and all your thoughts be hopeful.May the sun always shine at your doorstep and your bicycle take you on wondrous adventures.May you remain the same wonderland being you are and still grow into the glistening butterfly you were meant to become from the beginning.

I hope our paths will meet once again soon,so that I could give you so many promised embraces.

And don't forget to wait for the mailman,alright?Lots of love and magic,

(another) A.

Not well

The less I sleep,the more I understand how much I need it.I knew this was going to be a rough day from the moment I opened my eyes and my spine was out to get me and that horrible taste in my mouth wouldn't budge.

But I have things to do and things don't care if you feel like puking,crying,fainting on the floor for all eternity,everything at the same time.

Coffee becomes a liquid sleeping pill,while your bed turns into a terrestrial mermaid with lullaby callings.But it still seems as if the clocks were turned upside down for no reason whatsoever...

"Being" is more"existing" than "living" to even try.Another pointless "x",another question of "what should I take to lift my spirit?".

Alcohol made my innards rage against me.Food looks disgusting even when it's necessary.I'm cold and I'm not well.Sleeping isn't a solution now because my heart is pacing too determined for comfort.I have to wait it out ,focus on the things which make me happy instead of the boat that's dangling between the shell of my skin.

I watch a movie,I cry my seas out,but not even a soulful catharsis could banish this curse of the flesh.I need oblivion,but exhaustion has a crucial part too.

Why are we so fragile?We should have been carved out of stone,not dirt.

I really hate this utterly broken version of myself...

The Great Escape

The night has often many tales to tell,but my hybrid nightmare-dreams could really take the crown.
What a Heavenly buzz a good coffee can give!
I try to do what's right,even more,but I sometimes don't know what I do it for.
I would make a fine mother-with all this practice,I doubt any less would be true.
Rainy days and a bucketload of chores (literally!) don't mix quite well.
At least my senses can indulge in coconut and pineapple on such a gray occasion.
I've forgotten that my kittens are afraid of the blowdryer and that I look like a curly mushroom when I actually give a damn.
British shows are so damn cheeky that they're actually hilarious!
I adore being in love with a voice,a song,a band-the world seems a lot less lonely and I can feel the blood flowing through my veins without actually having to see it.
Why do I let things crowd at my door until the very last minute?
Blue car,supermarket adventures,muddy road.
I still can't believe a little puppy can grow into such a big dog.
Third coffee of the day,you say?Hell,yeah!
Lovely dinner,"The Great Gatsby",good memories.
Amazing artists are a sign that God exists to us mere mortals.
Warm popcorn,"Sleepy Hollow",falling for another British babe...again!
Midnight laughs and "cats in the bathtub".
Three friends,the same red bed.
Silly jokes and cozy blankets.
The real "great escape" in a while now.

Jeans jacket,light package

the weight of living hangs
upon my shoulders
as an ordinary pile of chores
that makes my soul quiver
in despair

my cheeks burn and the wind aches
when I'm alone,
yet pain only really kicks in
when I face the sun,
a much too bright reflection
of long forgotten sins

I drown in air and beg
my insides to silence
their foreign chants
because I have no answers
and existence leaves me weary

to be a robot would be
a rational blessing,
but I'm stuck with flesh and bruises
and sickening thoughts

jeans jacket,light package,
thorns stuck in a raspy throat-
it's wrong to feel doomed
both in body and in soul

the weight of living hangs
from my neck
like a rope

Too damn early

One day,my body will give up on me.Just like that.I'll probably faint in the middle of the street or crack my skull open against the bathroom sink.And it won't be because of some foreign disease or anything-no.It will only be a biological translation of so many errors I can't or won't address.

I'm nothingness.I don't want fame after I'm dead.My biggest fears are death and not being good enough.No amount of coffee or smoke could change the fact that my core is permanently trembling at the thought of so many things that are out of my control.

That's why my back fails me every so often.Why my jaw clenches at nightfall.Why my heart gets bruises from pounding against a line of ribs.It's because I'm overwhelmed and cosmically tired and probably insane already.

Every wound hurts me in poems and every ache spreads a web of damnation between my mental eyes.Sleep deprivation doesn't help and neither does a pessimistic outlook on existence.

When I was younger,I used to fill my time to the brim with any activity I could,just so that I wouldn't have the opportunity to sink into my endless sea of questions.Now...Now,I can't even be bothered to try.

So I fail.My body falls apart.It's a poisonous relationship I can't escape without permanent consequences.

One day,this body will give up on me like an old friend that has to finally let go...

Spotted hands

Comatose sleep.Crackling bones.Good food.Busy house.Rushed mother.Sweet coffee.Hopeful plans.Shopping trip.Long legs.Old stories.Buried emotions.Sad conclusions.Conflicted heart.Smothering crowds.Earthy uniforms.Mood swings.Unjustified behavior.Bloody rage.Tiresome errands.Yellow flowers.Miserable reflection.Loaded hands.Tense arms.House clothes.Coconut delight.Vocal kittens.Raw walnuts.Shy sun.No cooperation.Eager folks.Blue socks.Autumn shivers.Kitchen duty.Distracted mind.Haunted songs.Pointless phone calls.Black fingers.Crimson rimmed glasses.Lost words.Returning party.Family lunch.Second coffee.Hurried actions.Lovely brother.Traditional pictures.Pretty house.Spotted hands.Cold tomatoes.Insistent cats.Chilly sunset.Random conversations.Loud speakers.Early return.Sick mom.Silent steps.Tricky soup.Divine music.Crazy friends.Freezing toes.Playful creatures.Surreal fantasies.Berry tea.Clumsy hands.Rebel curls.Flat pillows.Obsessive song.Shattering voice.Moody spine.Tired prayers.Future plans.Nightfall.

P.S. The days when I can't articulate who or what I am are the hardest.If I can't translate myself into words,then what?What am I left with?Telegrams and dots.Oh,well...

An ordinary adventure

07:58/19:23

If someone would have told me that I would be cleaning the kitty litter box on a Sunday at the blessed time of 6:15 a.m.,I would have totally believed it because my life is now a vast collection of "what the fuck"s that I must learn to embrace one day.
Either this is an "Independence Day" remake in real life or that's one Hell of a big,dark blue cloud covering the sky this morning.
Drinking lukewarm coffee from a soda bottle means it's too early for me to have any sort of conversation.
As much as I love the countryside life,this isn't a courtesy visit and I wish I had another pair of socks on now.
Seeing grandma (well,technically,she's my actual grandmother's sister,but she's a proper grandma to me) is the reason I agreed to come and I absolutely don't regret it at all.
Getting emotional before 10 a.m. isn't actually the way to start the day,but I have been away for too long and the world isn't getting any nicer.
A steaming cup of coffee makes me a better person in any given circumstance.
Since I positively refused to help pick apples,I ended up with the muddy,tiny and (I swear!) sneaky cherry tomatoes-well,at least the company and conversation were good.
Why are walnuts covered in this thick,green shell?Why is it so hard to remove?Why do my hands look like they have been dipped in the night's sky?We just don't know.Science,man...
The autumn sun is sinking into my cheeks and memories are overflowing without my consent.
I don't know what's worse,to be honest:being old,being childish,or being both at the same time.
I swear to all the saints in Heaven-I would rather die on the spot,struck by lightning the moment I utter the words,than say the things grandma told her sister today.I swear on my life.
These memories are the ones that matter the most and the ones that will hurt the most.
And me thinking the car couldn't get anymore crowded...
A long journey back home and an equally long stop make me reassess how tired and anxious I really am.
My morning cloud must have relatives because this sunset is nothing short of creepy and mesmerizing.
Everything is fine:the cats didn't burn down the house,nobody broke in while we were gone and we're still in pretty good terms with each other.
I didn't quite grasp the meaning of the phrase "my entire body aches" until I sat down on the bed.
Music and warm blankets-all I need to end the day on a thankful tone.

Windy soul

There are days when my bed seems like the safest place on earth to be in.
There are days when my morning coffee tastes like ashes.
There are days when I feel so damn angry for no apparent reason that I just burst out of my skin.
There are days when my smile tastes bitter.
There are days when I can't see the possibility of a tomorrow.
There are days when my right hand becomes numb.
There are days when I think only cats could ever truly love me.
There are days when things feel surreal for more time than it would be mentally comfortable.
There are days when I can't keep my mouth shut for the greater good of others.
There are days when I crave meaning more than anything.
There are days when I wish I could unlisten to every song that ever made me believe.
There are days when the wind goes right through me.
There are days when I just want to take everybody by the shoulders and shake them.
There are days when I have to cry fire in order for me to carry on.
There are days when it all appears to be a vapid joke.
There are days when even kittens tremble.
There are days when I fear the future more than I resent the past.
There are days when I could just move into a bathtub.
There are days when the sight of a backpack makes me sick.
There are days when I don't want to go to sleep.
There are days when nightmares would be merciful.
There are days when it's all too much to handle.

Lukewarm life

I almost drowned once.I was little,it was scary,it was brief.Taking into consideration that I didn't and still don't know how to swim,the whole thing was a bit...traumatic.

I remember the dirty vastness of the sea and my wide open eyes and the sheer rawness of so many feelings.But more poignant was the moment when I was pulled to the surface-that first new breath of air and the salty rashness at the back of my throat.It was both victory and defeat-I was alive,but I could have died.

That's how my life feels nowadays:almost hitting rock bottom,reaching upwards,clearing the memory of it like I would the sand on my feet.

The saddest part is that it's all in my head,apart from a few scattered "headaches" and "backaches" and "sad movie aches".Nobody can really know because nobody would really understand.

That's how it feels like,that's how it always seems to end up feeling like:a raspy and salty aftertaste,shaking limbs,relief intertwined with resentment.A lukewarm life in the midst of a circling storm that's permanently far away,yet unmistakably close.Something silent enough not to cause a stir,yet loud enough to be heard by the person that matters.

I'm not afraid of water,though.I'm an Aquarius,for Pete's sake!

That doesn't meant I don't cringe when I imagine a giant wave at the corner of every tall building.Or when I think about tomorrow.Or the day after that.Or all days,for that matter.

Pointless,worthless

I'm at a point in my life when not existing anymore wouldn't be that big of a tragedy to me.No,this isn't a suicide note,rest assured.
It's just that...well,I'm tired.Actually,I'm exhausted,both in mind and in body.My sickness is in my head and I've become hopeless-literally.

I don't have a goal in life,I don't have a dream to sacrifice myself for,I don't have confidence in myself or willingness to even try.

What's the point,anyhow?"Life sucks and then you die".And don't you dare try to tell me there's a hidden meaning to it all because that's bullshit and you know it all too well!Not love,not power,not creation,no nothing.

Let's face it,we're just mortal pawns in a game which has no apparent rules,with a big prize of "six feet under" at the end.Does that seem fucking fair to you?

No religion could "save" me and no man could tell me otherwise.This just sucks and there's nothing more to be said about it.So,yeah,you could say I've given up before I've even started.

As I've pointed out before,everything seems "pointless".Add to that the fact that I feel worthless and welcome to my world!

Yes,I'm aware of the fact that I mean something to my family,friends&co.,but,on the big scale,I'm less than nothing-I'm what a spec of dust would look like after being obliterated by an atomic bomb.Don't you just crave to be me right now?Insert nervous laughter here.

I'm not going to kill myself,I'm not brave enough to do that.But the way I'm feeling these days sure doesn't feel like living no more...

Get me out

I keep my voice inside my chest,
where there are no ears to hear
or hearts to wound
or truths to be revealed

all I do is scream,yet the echo
never leaves a wall of ribs
that too often seem to collapse
on me

I mourn for life and loss and everything
in between,
be it real or not or just waiting in my dreams

my insides have become loud
and obnoxious,
like every organ is a child and every bone
a noisy toy to pound against the skin
and mind

every action is met by a negative reaction
of closed eyes,shallow breaths
and a numb desire to rip apart
my inner vocal chords

I keep my voice inside my chest
because my ears would bleed
to blue
from all those pitiful pleas of
get me out
get me out
get me out

A book a day

...makes me forget who I am.No,seriously,I feel like I've temporarily lost my identity and replaced it with whatever ideas,emotions,situations I've experienced while reading.And it feels really weird,I'll give you that...

Actually,it's kind of funny and amazing how we're the sum of books and music and movies and days and nights and people and places,all through which we've lived and somehow still do...

Anyway,it's been a while since I've last been so engorged by a piece of writing that actually has a proper name on the cover or an actual cover (*wink wink*).

On the one hand,I'm thrilled because now I feel like I've drunk 100 coffees worth of energy and illumination and that's how good literature should feel like.On the other,it's depressing as fuck to know I'll never be a published author or a good one,for that matter.Considering even the last shred of pride I had went to Hell,it seems I'm putting pen to paper just to pass the time nowadays...

Fact: it's easier to read a story than to write one,especially when it keeps eluding you and never going quite where you'd expect it to go.

Taking that into account,I dare consider this a fulfilling day,even though it's not over yet and we all know what sort of luck I have.I've learned something,I did my "around the house" chores and managed to see the sunlight.

This should definitely happen again...

P.S. "Will Grayson,Will Grayson"-John Green and David Levithan 

Autumn promenade

Night ghouls.Sour sheets.Barking awakening.Orange pajamas.Elvis hair."Cooking service".Milky and creamy coffee.Tumbling kittens in the garden.Last minute summer homework.Brotherly talk.Sunny surroundings.Good news.Bad puns.A witty cartoon that still makes me laugh.The last green apples of the bunch.Skipping through music.Another lazy afternoon outdoors.Tangled hair.Needy animals.Extremely talkative brother.Lack of incentive to write about my boring life.Seeping bad mood.Hot plates of food.Second coffee of the day.Killing time.Mustard leaves.Running around the house.Encompassing sweater.Tearful mascara.Jasmine perfume.Rushed pace.Wonderful friend.Chocolate delight.Sparrow blouse.Just the three of us.Autumn promenade.Catching up on each other.Green lake.Old feet.Secluded bench.Familiar stories,all too familiar problems.Promises,plans,pleasant lies.Beautiful people all around.Our known spot.Yellow lights,raspy smoke,tales we only tell ourselves.Much too old souls.A dark city.Angry dogs.Sweet sharing.Fantasy world.Crumpled sheets.Late snack.Growing fears.Surreal escape.Not so wonderful epiphany.Blue socks."Goodnight!".Wishful prayers.

54 and 54 more!

I don't want to have another nightmare again in my entire life.
Why do I wake up numb and sore if I sleep too much or funny or like I've been in a coma?
God bless mom's breakfast this morning because I was getting tired of "being her" during the week...
I should keep count and tell daddy "Happy birthday!" 54 times today-he'd either cry or go insane,which should be avoided,though.
True happiness isn't something I indulge in very often or very long,but I take it as it comes and I'm grateful for it when it does.
My name day (well,middle name day) is becoming the most confusing thing ever.
Who knew the autumn sun could burn so pleasantly?
If the concept of "reincarnation" is true,then mark me down to be a kitten the next round-just looking at Cream and Blueberry jumping around,playing,being all cute and cuddly makes me want to give up this conscience that isn't doing me a whole lot of good,to be honest.
Spending quality time with my grandmother is time spent best when she doesn't start asking me about life goals,boyfriends and grandchildren-that's when the need to trade my coffee for liquor really kicks in.
I told mom (45) and dad (54) that their combined ages total 99 years now and the look on their faces cannot be transposed into words.
Being too playful may require medication at some point...for others,that is.
Since you can't have a proper family dinner without the food part,mom really outdid herself this time.
Well,since everybody is already drunk-happy,might as well join the party then...
I'm listening to the same old songs,in my same old chair,with the same not-so-old cats in my lap on a Sunday afternoon-should I laugh,should I cry or should I just start praying harder?
I'm never listening to the news again.
Though I admit I'll take forever to get ready to go out,there's no denying we're all a bunch of last-minute-preparations princesses.
What were the odds of me running into one of my best friends among a moving crowd,in the midst of such a blinding darkness?
I am officially in love with majestic horses that look like dalmatians and I want a thousand of them,even though I don't think I've even touched one in my life so far.
Watching fireworks dancing between the branches of so many trees is a smile inducing experience- to say the least.
I feel so tired (in a good way) that I can't but call it a day and say "thank you".

Raspy throat and grumpy attitude

Voice?What voice?Because mine got a bit damaged last night from all the screaming and cheering and general fangirling.But it was totally awesome and totally worth it,so I'll mend my raspy throat with some hot tea and bask in the glow of such a cool experience.

I don't mind at all because 1.I kinda sound like Scarlett Johansson and 2.people leave me alone.Seriously,how many times do I have to spell it out for them that I have no interest in gossip?

Honest to God,I DO NOT CARE.I can sleep very well at night without knowing what or who X did and such.I have enough issues and worries of my own,thank you very much!

Though I'm not going to stand here like a hypocrite and pretend I'm completely oblivious to the world around me,I don't seek it on purpose and I try to keep my "propagation" part at a minimum.

That being said,I should go put the kettle on...

Why do I always end up in the middle of somebody else's fight?And by "someone" I mean usually two members of my family who think the world is too peaceful sometimes.It's funny how they don't even have to be in the same room for me to become an emotional punching bag.

But I don't want that anymore:I'm not taking sides,I'm not giving advice,I'm minding my own business in a most silent and Swiss way.Which,naturally,makes me the grumpy and crazy one!I swear to all the gods and saints...

I'm damned if I talk and I'm damned if I don't.All I want is calm and understanding around here,yet I seem to receive the contrary of all that.Oh,if pride were less destructive!

It pains me-it pains me to be in this situation when I know we could all be so much more...human.

This plague of "grumpy attitude" is starting to piss me off.

I can't put my finger on it,but there's something about buying things that makes you feel good.And I'm not talking about a flat screen or a new car here-no,I'm talking about plain old shopping for simple things.

Just the idea of owning an item ,now matter how (un)important,triggers the sense of power we all long for in one way or another.

I know,I must sound bonkers,but I have started searching for meaning even in the most peculiar of situations,so bear with me here!Actually,this whole thing keeps me sane,since I was kind of a failure this summer/year/life.

Anyway,what I mean is that the pain of carrying a lot of stuff is outweighed by the pleasure they bring,real or self-inflicted,fleeting illusion.

And this reminds me I totally forgot to buy chamomile tea for my broken voice and "bothered" behavior...So much for power tonight!

Full Friday

I love it when it's sunny outside and everybody is getting along and I don't have to feel guilty for being kinda lazy.Don't get me wrong,I like helping other people-Hell,that's easier than helping myself,to be honest!But there's a certain pleasure in numbness and serenity I just can't seem to refuse!

Sure,your family is inevitably going to say all the wrong things (like,for example,"why aren't you doing anything useful with your life these days?") and every small thing is going to annoy the crap out of you and the voices in your head will most definitely be an issue at some point,but...life is just so good when it's not bad that I want to kiss it on the mouth.Yes,I'm a simple person and I like being comfortable,so sue me!

Will this attitude majorly backfire sooner or later?You bet your ass it will.Do I care now that much?No,I don't.

And seeing an old friend just made my day better...

Well,wouldn't you know it,I put on weight this summer!Does the sun rise every morning?Do I love cats?Is everyone being an insensitive little bitch,though they think they're only joking and/or are completely oblivious towards the issue?Pretty much.

Though it's still a tough journey and I'm not always a "happy camper",I love my body.It works just fine,it's not broken,it's not crippled,it's a good body and I'm blessed to have it.True,I don't take the best care of it,but it hasn't failed me yet,so fingers crossed!But I'll be damned if anybody is helping!

Let me break it down for you:grandma pokes my tummy and asks me "Is it moving yet?",mom calls me "Milka" around the house ('cause we just love each other that much),while my brother told me right before going out that I look like "I'm about to give birth".Do I laugh?Do I cry?

If I were overweight or obese,I'd get it,but I'm...me.And twisting that knife doesn't help my overgrowing pile of (un)real problems one bit.

I'll just slap on a smile and move on.

I'm in love,I really am!It's like drinking and only getting the "floating" sensation,instead of feeling groggy afterwards.And it's not "him" or "her",but an "it"-I'm in love with a concert!

The energy,the crowd,the smoke,the stage,everything makes it so intimate and surreal that I can't even put it into words properly!

Yes,you'll have people that suck around you and some chick will probably lip-sync the entire performance,but that doesn't matter anymore when you've got your best friend beside you and a wonderful singer to make it all up on stage.

Those few moments when individuals become an entity and you know all the lyrics and everything just feels right,those are the moments that count.And I'm happy I've made moments count tonight.

"It's all about money,honey!"

I'm transforming into my mother.Well,at least in what concerns the self-sacrificing and putting the others first part.I still don't know how to manage my money,though.

I go from phases when I don't buy a thing for months to ones when I act as if I had unlimited funds.

The thing is that I would only work my ass off to "pay back my debts" towards my family and make them happy somehow.Because money is the root of a lot of problems around here,so cutting the source would eliminate the issue,right?I'm going to stick to that lie for now...

But if it were my way,I'd be by the seashore somewhere,living in a small cottage and making seashell necklaces.Ironically,even that sort of living would require some sort of income and I kind of want to cry right now.Oh,God...

To be completely honest,I've earned some cash in an "intellectual" manner along the way,which allowed me to buy things for myself and the ones that I love.Still,my relationship with currency remains at an "adore/loathe" level.Even so,it's never quite enough...

I really need to learn how to count my blessings and cherish them.

The dark side of the sun

The more time I spend outside,the more I feel smothered by this room's walls when night falls.

I fear darkness.I fear nightmares.I fear death with a crippling grip that haunts my entire body.I am dominated by a feeling of uncertainty and terror to such a degree that I might as well call it "paranoia".

Daylight is like a warm caress,while its absence becomes a sharp claw I cannot avoid.

Why do I craft my own nasty dreams?Why do I always put the Devil in front of me?Why don't I just...let go?

It's the loneliness,those few hours when I'm the only one still awake in the whole house,when the voices inside my skull get louder and paint pictures I wish I did not have the mental eyes to see.

Oh,if only my prayers would be less sinister and I could fall asleep instantly!

Change frightens me because I sometimes can't control it and that's when it seems as if I'm being bled dry by an unstoppable force.

Yes,I cling to the sun so I don't have to face the moon.No,I'm not ready for this life at all.Maybe I'll become fearless once day.I don't know what to do with myself anymore.

Flowers for feet

my first thought in the morning
is a plea
for my reality to remain unaltered
and the Heavens to be merciful
once more

I have flowers for feet,
which crush and bleed each time
a horrid mistake
draws near

if only all my sins could be
washed clean
by this sudden summer rain
that conquered me

my bliss resides in black potions
and conjured fantasies,
but misguided magic can only get you
so far

my last thought of the night
is a prayer
for my reality to remain unaltered
and the Heavens to be merciful
once more

I paint my way towards happiness

I want to feel useful,so I make a plan and beg my bones to obey.It's crucial that I follow through because the future isn't what it used to be anymore-too much a part of the present to even seem distant.So this means I have to make my past worthwhile.

The rainbow I keep caged inside wanted to stretch its luminous wings today,which means that these palms of mine had their cracks filled with watery balms.No shapes,no purpose,just color.Just color to spill and spread and sprawl across an eager canvass with limitless possibilities.

When the paintbrushes got tired,my fingers took over and I became a child once more.I was happy-happy in an honest,innocent,fleeting and sunny way,happy enough to forget and live for now.

With blue around my eyes and crimson tucked away in my arms,the day didn't seem like a chore anymore,but a blessing.

This was a small feat,I know,but I feat nonetheless.The kittens played and the coffee was lovely and my brother was nice to me-what more could I ask for?

This day was most definitely full of joy and small wonders.

Thirteen candles

Even my teeth feel sore after this night's sleep.

I couldn't have sung a more false and funny "Happy birthday!" to my brother even if I wanted to.

Sweet breakfast and a steaming cup of coffee to make me feel special too.

The search for the perfect present can carry on without me,I'm sure.

Wonderful "Wonderfalls".

Autumn sun,playful kittens,comfy chair-good things,good things indeed.

An emerald bench that knows all my rusty thoughts.

Family reunion,proper feast,thirteen candles.

It's nice to be able to talk to mom.

Too much food to handle.

Golden dahlia,cerulean sky,charcoal bee- a picture-perfect scenery.

Writing words with invisible ink.

Blue feet to match the season's growing chill.

Of course,how can there be a day without any drama?

"Girls' night in" with "Alice in Wonderland" and fluffy balls of "meow!".

Phantom traces of popcorn and anxiety.

Retreating in a cocoon of blankets.

Always give thanks for a beautiful day to whomever you believe in.